


On Mannimarco's Understanding of Power

by ebsmith



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Anal Sex, Artaeum, M/M, Mannimarco has a necro-alit sized headache, Mannimarco's musings on Power Dynamics, Power Dynamics, Psijic Order (Elder Scrolls), Rough Sex, Rough kinky magicka-sex, Telekinesis, Vanus is in the doghouse, Vanus just wants some lovin', gratuitous abuse of Mystiscism, mannimarco has a very broad and abstracted definition of true power, the Psijics are the illumaniti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebsmith/pseuds/ebsmith
Summary: Several days after their latest fight in the Vault, Vanus visits Mannimarco in his room. Whether this counts as an apology or not is anyone's guess.Takes place after the events of the 2nd Traitor's Vault scene in ESO.
Relationships: Vanus Galerion/Mannimarco
Kudos: 24





	On Mannimarco's Understanding of Power

It’s not three whole days before Vanus approaches Mannimarco in his study after first calling his work "repulsive" and then storming away in a childish huff. "I miss you,” the fool boy whispers, leaning his cheek against the top of Mannimarco's head.

He ignores him. He’s spent his time far more productively it seems, now currently attempting to muck his way through the most convoluted yet highly recommended treatise on Ayleid-Nedic summoning theory he has ever come across. He certainly had a love of the artful word, but this pit of textural vomit would give even the ever cryptic Moth Priests a run for their money. He rubs his eyes and tries to ignore those infernal hands working the before-now unfelt knots from his shoulders.

"Marco?" Vanus doesn’t wait for an answer this time, just tugs the horrid book from his (unresisting) grasp, and climbs onto his lap. "Marco?" another whisper. Vanus is looking at his mouth now and not his eyes. He takes Mannimarco's limp hands in his own.

He watches with a sort of enthralled disgust as Vanus draws those hands to his mouth and kisses them. Presses them flat to his chest. Slides them down his front and forces them against his hipbones. Vanus lets them rest there while leaning in to kiss him on the lips, a soft moan escaping from his mouth even as Mannimarco himself diligently remains unresponsive. 

Kiss, kiss, and kiss. More delicate presses to his mouth, his cheek, his temple. He feels himself stir and his eyes dilate in autonomic response. Vanus is pressing his face into his neck now, so eager. Mouthing and sucking at his jaw, still somehow managing to be so (endearingly) awkward even after all their long and studied practice together. Vanus guides his left hand down to his cock and proceeds to grind against his palm through his thin robes. A sigh escapes from his mouth of its own volition. A few minutes later Vanus comes just from that, rutting against his hand while latched onto his mouth, tongue lapping against his slightly parted lips, those eyes now finally meeting his own again (so hopeful...)

Such strange eyes Vanus has. So comically large. (Large and clear and swallowed up in endless blue even like this-) He needs a break anyway. He stands abruptly, hoisting a made-weightless Vanus into his arms. He ignores his feeble protests at being carried, walks over to his bed, and drops him onto it without ceremony. He perfunctorily undoes his own clothes and watches Vanus squirm under his stare. He has the most ridiculous flush on his cheeks now, as if he were still a shy young virgin and not a full grown mer as confident and self-assured as he (with good reason), who could use his mouth in ways that would shame a Breton whore.

Now stripped to the waist, he holds out his hands and grips Vanus with his mind, forcing him flat on his back while peeling his robes from his skinny frame. Vanus whimpers and arches against his aura-field, shivering and struggling against his power and the feedback from it has him leaking into his own trousers despite himself.

Once Vanus is nude, he pushes him over onto his stomach and deigns to use his physical hands to drag him backwards and onto his knees. He slides into that well-used hole with a single deep push and grits his teeth at the squeeze of Vanus’s muscles around him as he thrashes against him, fighting back even as he’s begging for it under his breath. Mannimarco doesn't have the patience for this game, not tonight, so he stuns his lower back to put a stop to it and fucks into him until he's screaming and coming again an absurdly short time later, and Mannimarco has to Silence himself to keep from doing the same.

He wants his mouth. (he also wants-) Shaking his head, he shoves Vanus forward, who scrambles to get a hold on his momentum before Mannimarco flips him onto his back again. He sheds his open trousers and climbs upon the bed to meet him. Arms and legs wide for him, head thrown back against the mattress, neck bared and hands gripping into the sheets, tiny sparks of static arcing from the hairs on his arm to ground. (He wants-) he digs his nails into Vanus's chest and drags them down his front all the way to his pubic bone, gathering those sparks and feeding them right back to their source. Vanus shrieks and clenches his knees together in reflex and fluid pulses from his twice-spent cock. Mannimarco forces them apart and with one leg over his shoulder, slides back inside and doesn’t silence anything this time (he couldn’t even if he wanted to). Now he's the one moaning and sucking at Vanus’s bared throat and rutting mindlessly, desperately into him and now Vanus has his other leg pulled high up over his back and his hands are fisted into his hair and he’s whining, whimpering, "harder Marco! harder, harder!" and Mannimarco can only do his best to obey.

~

'It was a pity' thinks Mannimarco after. A good while after. He wasn't getting anywhere with that damn book anyway. Vanus is now curled up alongside him, head on his shoulder and snoring lightly, occasionally twitching with little aftershocks. The spark against his bare skin tickles and he runs his hand though Vanus's hair in retaliation, amusing himself with the effects the excess static had on the wispy strands.

Power. Strength and Weakness. Artful manipulation of Life, and by extension, Death. These were the Old Ways, the Ways of the Order Itself, and his Ways were a natural extension of that - whatever Iachesis's "seliffren" opinions were on the matter. He sighs to himself. Vanus certainly had a fine grasp of Power in _this_ context. So stubborn. So determined. So much Raw Will. It was a damn shame he refused to embrace the Way of it. Of _all_ of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Iachesis's term is from the lore book "The Old Ways.” seliffrn.sae: to give grave and faithful council; seliffren: of grave and faithful council.


End file.
